


Carry on, carry on

by Chyrstis



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3497498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chyrstis/pseuds/Chyrstis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>News travels and gossip spreads, but as for what's true and what's not? Only time will tell. A home for shorter stories starring bosses V and Grant spanning SR1-IV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where there's smoke

**Author's Note:**

> There's a lot of shorter entries over at Tumblr that I've written over the last year and a half that I've wanted to find a place for, and while I could've put them up as individual one-shots, another collection like this seemed to be a better way of organizing them. Especially for the shorter and less heavy entries that I've been tempted to add to _But I ain't finished, I'm devoted_ , but never got around to. 
> 
> So, updates to this might be a bit sporadic, but each one will have a note at the top detailing the prompt given, and the pairing if applicable. New pairs that pop up will be added to the tags too, and while V might draw most of my attention, my other boss, Grant, is guaranteed to show up here too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (847):My fridge door just caught on fire somehow. (V & Johnny)
> 
> In SR2, V and Johnny have a serious problem to attend to. Shame they don't know it just yet.

“I can’t feel my face.” V rolled over onto her stomach, and opened a bleary eye to look at Johnny.

He wasn’t looking much better judging from the way his mouth was twisted. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, pushing his sunglasses up to get to them. “Your fault.”

“M-my fault?”

“Yeah. Your fucking fault.” The sunglasses fell off of his head when he tried to sit up, and he quickly set himself back down. _“…Fuck._ I’m not drinking anything you push my way again.”

“Dares can be turned down, you know. Not my fault you wanted bragging rights.” V propped herself up on her arms and blinked a few times to adjust to the light. “Motherfucking pride’s a killer, man.”

When her gut didn’t turn at the motion, she shifted into a sitting position and glanced around her room. The small apartment didn’t give them much space to move around in general, but her tendency to throw her clothes all over the floor made it that much more of a maze to work around.

The way her senses refused to kick into gear made her wonder if she was still riding out the buzz from the night before. Her vision wasn’t swimming, but she took twice the amount of time to steady herself when she planted both of her feet onto the floor. Standing wasn’t a problem, but after the first few steps she scrambled to paw at the edge of a nearby dresser.

Something broke nearby, a lamp, or one of her ashtrays, but she didn’t care. A slow pain was starting to throb behind her eyes, and she needed something to chip away at it.

“I’m grabbing some fucking aspirin. You want some?” The only thing she caught from Johnny was a grumble, the words low and out of her range of hearing. “What?”

The ‘shut the fuck up’ wasn’t hard to pick out this time, but by then she got the point. He felt like shit. Just as much, if not more than her. Painkillers wouldn’t hurt one bit.

“Cool,” she said, giving him a thumbs up. “Be back in a sec.”

Taking in a slow breath, she stood up as straight as she could manage and waited until she could balance without the dresser before venturing out of her room.

Something hit her nose the moment she opened the door. The smoky hint that came with a lit match, or a cigarette that she’d forgotten to put out. Nothing caught her eye from where she stood, but when she went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, the smell only grew.

“Fucking weird,” she muttered, reaching for the door to the fridge, and after prying it open let it fall out of her hand with a yelp. “Jesus, fucking hell!”

Smoke came out, and her back hit a counter before she fell to the floor. Her hands clawed at the cabinets under the sink as she kept on yelling, and didn’t let up even when she pulled the fire extinguisher out.

“No, no, no-!” The pin refused to budge, and she let out a sound of frustration.

“V?”

She turned her head, and when Johnny hit the kitchen she tried to shove the fire extinguisher at his knees.

“V, what the fuck?”

“Just put it out! Put the damn thing out before my whole fucking place goes up!”

He crouched down next to her, grabbed it, and in seconds was spraying the small fire into submission. She watched him with wide eyes until the smoke stopped, and the minute it did, she slumped back against the cabinets behind her. “Thank you. _Jesus._ ”

“Uh, that shit’s not supposed to do that, right?” Johnny asked, pointing at the charred mess in front of them.

“Nope.”

“Like catch fire, and have us scrambling to put that shit out?”

She shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

“Your luck’s fucking awful, V.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”


	2. Say cheese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (802):Alright if I email the police department asking for my mug shot do you think they will email it to me - V/Troy
> 
> Takes place right in that time frame between SR2 and SR3!

Troy jolted when his phone went off. The short chirp was harmless, but after a morning full of traffic violations that made him go through two cups of coffee in quick succession, it was like a small siren. The quick snap to attention made him slap his pen off of his desk, and he took in a deep breath before digging his phone out.

V's number stared up at him, almost innocently. A wise man would've saved the message for later. For a time when he didn't have a stack of things threatening to overtake his desk. But even with that staring him down, he couldn't help but bite.

Shaking his head, he opened the message and scanned it.

_So, you've got access to all the mugshots in the database, right?_

He frowned, and responded, _Yeah, so?_

_Any chance you might be able to slip a few of mine my way? It's important._

He didn't even bother to type out a response. Just dialed her number and waited for V to pick up. It took two rings for her to do so, and when she did, she laughed. _“Uh oh. Was it something I said, Chief?”_

“You want your mugshots?”

_“Yes.”_

“For what, exactly?”

_“Well, the HQ was looking a little dull, so-”_

“V.”

_“They're conversation pieces. And Pierce said something about there not being a lot of pictures of me, so I went to the one place that had some good ones.”_

“Good ones.” Troy unclenched his jaw, and eyed the drawer with his cigarettes. It was too early to light up. Too damn early. “Do I even need to go over what's wrong with that phrase?”

_“Come on, you know what I mean.”_

She sighed, and he didn't have to try hard to imagine it. She was pouting, and he felt a sympathetic pang. After giving one last longing glance towards the drawer, he reached for the mouse and followed the right avenues to access the database.  “With this kind of lighting, they're hardly glamour shots.”

_“Oh?”_

Her voice perked up, and Troy shrugged. “We don't exactly dig out the spotlights for anyone getting booked. You know the drill.”

_“Sure, but your welcome crew could use some work. Throwing me out there without any direction or advice? That's just cruel.”_

“For you, or for them?” He heard her gasp, and tried not to grin. “It wouldn't have taken much for you to work them over.”

_“Jerk. ...But that's beside the point.”_

Her alias came up, and Troy double-clicked it, jumping past all the other information in order to straight for the pictures in question.

And when he pulled them up, he was slapped in the face with a set of bedroom eyes he hadn't seen in a while. Staring at the screen, he took in her parted lips and dark eyes, and swallowed thickly. For a shoot he'd been there to witness part of, he didn't recall being hit like this. Instead, he'd caught the edge of one of her looks before rolling his eyes and turning back to the officers on duty.

In some ways he was grateful he had missed the majority of them, but now, he wasn't sure at all. “Jesus, V.”

_“Hmm?”_

He cleared his throat, and tore his eyes away from the dare being leveled at him.  “Were the fuck-me-eyes really necessary?”

_“Uh, no,”_ she replied in a sing-song tone. _“But it's your fault for having a cute woman in the room.”_

“What?”

_“Seriously. The woman taking the photos? Would've given her my number if she hadn't exited stage left. Such a damn shame. I think we could've had something.”_

Sighing heavily, Troy gave up on the fight and reached for the drawer. “Something?”

_“Something. Though, she wasn't exactly the one I was putting on the show for.”_

“Show, huh?” Troy pursed his lips. “Who was the lucky person then?”

_“Ah, ah,”_ she chided, and he knew she had to be wagging her finger at him. _“That's something I'll just have to keep to myself. But if you could, uh, slip a few of those photos my way, I'd make it worth your while.”_

Troy tapped his fingers on the desk, the rhythm he'd established carrying on for a few minutes before he spoke up. “I can't make any guarantees, but...a few might slip by.”

_“One or two just under your notice, eh?”_

“Can't always account for everything.”

_“...No, you can't, can you?”_ she asked, her tone warm. “You're the best, Chief.”


	3. Do not disturb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done for the prompt: do not disturb troy/boss/johnny
> 
> Post-SRIV, and pretty darn old by now, but I'm glad to finally have it up with the others.

V climbed out of the simulation, the memory of her hair being singed still present, and was some odd mixture of irritated and furious. Having to come back to the much cooler and remote ship didn’t help in the slightest, so the minute she had her bearings back she went searching.

Lucky for her they both happened to be in the same place. Ben was going over a few details for fleet enhancements, and she cut in over him.

"You, and you," she threw out, pointing at them, "we need to talk."

Troy eyed her curiously, but Johnny dropped what he was looking at and stayed on her heels as she left.

He caught up as she slowed down to mess with the door to her room, and wrapped his arms around her from behind, his mouth pressing against the exposed skin of her neck. The damn code that Kinzie had instituted was only half complete, but she heard someone type in the other half as Johnny continued to run his hands over her.

The door opened and she reached out to Troy as he practically dragged the two of them out of the hallway. Then it was only a matter of focusing long enough to get their suits off.

Didn't take long.

* * *

"Is that common?"

Pierce dealt another round of cards out to Shaundi, Asha, and Keith. “Boss has been going over a lot of things with them lately. Must be an old guard kind of thing.”

"They are the two that she’s known the longest, yeah?" Asha asked, checking her hand.

Shaundi tried not to smirk. “Yeah. Lot of history there.”

"Makes you wonder what was so urgent, though. Didn’t she pull the same thing a few days ago?" Pierce asked, turning to Keith. 

"She did," Keith said, putting two of his cards down. "Kinzie told me she had suffered a bad run through one of the training simulations, and nearly broke half of the downtown area."

"Broke? You don’t just break cities," Pierce muttered. "It’s more like the boss totals them. Guess she just needed to vent at someone for a while, not that I’m complaining."

Asha held onto all of her cards, and tapped them against the table. “Actually, Johnny had helped Matt come up with the information for that one, so I can see why he would be present.  I wonder if Troy's acting as a peacekeeper.”

Shaundi’s smile grew bigger. “Peacekeeper? Might be more of a tie-breaker.”

"Between those two? Shit, that’s a situation I wouldn’t want to ever be in," Pierce said, finally getting around to checking his hand. "Hey, didn’t they say they wanted to get in on the next game?"

"I think I remember the guys saying that. Think we can get a round or two in before they come back?"

"Maybe. I could always just run over there and ask if they want us to wait."

Shaundi raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Pierce thought it over for a second then adjusted his hat. “Maybe not.”


	4. Rock the boat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> V and Johnny decide to give the old Tunnel of Love thing a try. Between SR2 and SR3.

“Tell me why we did this again?”

“Fun, adventure, killer mood music.” V waggled her eyebrows as the music carried on, and she tried not to snort at Johnny’s expression. “Well, I know why I did this, and I’d ask what a guy like you’s doing in a place like this, but we both paid up front.”

“With cold hard cash. For this.”

Morbid curiosity was likely the key offender for the two piling into a Tunnel of Love ride of all things, but in all honesty it had been a dare. One the two gave the minute it caught their eye, and they traded a look with each other. 

As far as rides went, this was old, a few light bulbs short of making the mood lighting actually effective, and made her jump every time one of the animatronics tried to do anything endearing. Something hit the water up ahead, and they both tried to peer through the veiled tunnel. Not much could be spotted, but with her vision already blurring a bit due to their bar run with the others earlier, she doubted she’d be able to pick out much.

Johnny shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t even know what that was.”

“Animal, vegetable, or mineral?” V asked, bumping his shoulder with hers.

“Could be all three.”

“At least then it’d give us something fun to tackle, right? Nothing more romantic than fist-fights with local fauna to get things rolling.” He gave her a grin that made her warm all over, and she giggled. “Jesus H. You need to be careful with those. Girl might get some ideas.”

The smile grew wolfish, and her imagination didn’t have any trouble coming up with responses to that. Shame she couldn’t get her mouth to cooperate. He angled his head towards her, and her eyes widened. “Any good ones?”

“Um. Define good, cause good can cover a lot of things. Like this.” Another bulb went out above them, leaving them with the lone pink one that was blinking intermittently. “This was a good idea when I climbed into it.”

“And?”

“Now it’s-“ V spun a hand in the air as she tried to get her brain to work, “only about sixty to seventy percent worth of good.”

Gat’s brows drew together. “Sixty’s pretty fucking high.”

“We’re not sinking yet, so give me a break. That and maybe I’m getting a huge kick out of us drifting through this lovey-dovey crap. Maybe I’ve never done it before.” She’d half been muttering to herself, but the minute she saw Johnny’s confused smile shift to something else, she wanted to slap herself. Instead, she shot to her feet. “So let’s do this. The whole fucking nine yards.”

The off-tune music that kept on playing settled into something softer, and Johnny went from dead serious to confused again. “What?”

“We’re stuck on this little love boat until the end, right? Well, I’m getting my ten bucks worth. You’re getting your ten bucks worth, and I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling this.” Both of her hands went to her heart as she gave him a sappy look, and perched her foot on the edge of the boat. “Johnny Gat-“

“Oh, fuck no,” he said, horror dawning on his face. “V-“

“You are…” She cleared her throat loudly, and Johnny gave her one last helpless look before she started singing.

It went off-key the moment it left her mouth, and reached an ungodly pitch as she kept on going. Her attention went to the flowers dangling just within reach, put up to line the ride and add to the charm, and she reached for one. Tripped over a few more of the scattered - and half-slurred - words as she tried to score a rose, and felt her balance sway as she groped for them.

One eventually gave, and she spun around to face him with her prize between her teeth. She didn’t even get to enjoy the bemused look crossing him. Only felt her boot slip before letting out a shriek as she pitched over the boat’s side.

The water wasn’t even a sliver as cold as she hoped it would be, and when she hit it, panic almost did. Something snagged her jacket, helped her get her head above water, and when her limbs stilled, Gat was just as soaked as she was. He held her above it until she found her footing, the water line barely reaching her waist, and he lowered her slowly.

V scrubbed at her eyes, her ass smarting from hitting the ‘moat’s’ bottom, and gave him a miserable look. One that he exchanged with her, even with his sunglasses still perched on his nose.

The boat bumped into him as they stood there, and he swiped his wet hair out of his face. “You get your ten dollars worth yet?”

"Shut up."


	5. Schematics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Troy chat about super suits, and Troy's...shall we say, less than creative choice. Post-SRIV and inspired by kakumei's drawing [here.](http://kakumei.tumblr.com/post/93287579332/i-brought-up-the-topic-of-what-other-saints-not)

“I already know what you're going to say,” Matt started, rushing through the words as he cornered Troy in the ship's kitchen, “but give me a moment to run it by you. Just one!”

Troy lowered the cup of coffee in his hand, and sighed deeply. “Sure, kid. Go for it.”

Matt took in a short breath to right himself, and clapped his hands together. “I remember you saying something about wanting additional modifications in the simulation. Body armor and the like. More effective means of shielding oneself.”

Troy nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yep.”

“Strong, sturdy fabrics - at least as far as the simulation can produce - paired with plates that can reduce impact should make your efforts much more effective. At least in comparison to your old uniform.”

Troy's eyebrows went up as he paused mid-drink. “What?”

“I...have a suggestion. Plenty, as you've heard before, but I've narrowed it down to one.” Matt flipped through his PDA before Troy could protest, and tried to work fast. “After going through the older ideas that you rejected, I came to a reasonable conclusion. You value practicality. Simplicity. Something a bit closer to what you know well.”

“Look, I think I have an idea of what you were trying for when you started designing these things, but I don't think I really fit into that scheme.” Matt glanced at Troy briefly, and the older man shook his head before going back to his coffee. “I mean it. Spandex and superhero stuff's more your boss's thing.”

“It is, which is why I think you might prefer a design along these lines.”

He angled the PDA so Troy could get a clear look, and his expression went flat. “You've got to be shitting me.”

“No, I'm being entirely serious.”

It was difficult for Matt not to shift around as Troy thought it over, tilting his head to the side as he kept on working on his coffee. All of the previous designs had earned an automatic no, so this one had already surpassed expectations.

“Wait,” Troy said after a minute. “I know what this is. At least I think I do.”

“I would certainly hope so. While the comics aren't as prominent, the movie did bring plenty of attention to the franchise, and he does fit the theme of a lawful figure.”

“We are talking about the same guy, from the same movie, right?” Troy asked, giving Matt an incredulous look.

Matt blinked at him, and cringed. “Judge Dredd made his first appearance during the late seventies. If you are referring to the movie in question that I'm thinking of right now, that is not a fair, or accurate portrayal of the character. For one thing, under no circumstances would he ever choose to remove his helmet-”

“Whoa, hang on there,” Troy interrupted quickly, holding his hand up. “I'm not saying anything for or against it, kid. Just that it's an odd fit.”

“Not really, but...” Matt cleared his throat. “That was somewhat of a tangent. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that with this design all of your problems would be solved. It even comes with the signature helmet for added protection.”

Matt brought up a separate draft for the helmet design, and got a small nod of approval. “Not bad.”

“Indeed. Visibility wouldn't be an issue either, so it would certainly be an upgrade if you chose to pursue it.”

That put Troy's skeptical look right back on Matt, but he kept on looking back at the design. Each glance lasted a bit longer than the last, and by the time Troy pursed his lips and looked up for a final time, Matt was nearly beside himself.

“So, how long would it take to put in?” Troy asked tentatively.

Matt bit down on his excitement and somehow managed to keep his voice even. “Not long. I can easily overwrite and apply the code to you.”

“And it's actually an upgrade?”

“Yes. It would tap into the same base statistics attached to your old uniform and add in the appropriate enhancements and bonuses. At first glance they would function the same, but it would be more effective at dealing with most forms of gunfire, while also reducing the force of the warden's blasts. If you happen upon one.”

Troy chuckled. “You really wanted us all in suits bad, didn't you?”

“I did not-” Matt fumbled, and closed his mouth to gather himself for a few seconds. “I'll have you know that I put a lot of time and careful thought into these designs. What worked aesthetically as well as their overall functionality.” When Troy's smile took on a wry edge, Matt sighed. “...Though I might've taken a few liberties.”

“A few?”

“A few,” Matt insisted. “And perhaps I did come on too strong with the initial designs, but that's all behind us now. Settled due to the discovery of a happy medium that should work well on all fronts." 

"Should." Troy leaned against the counter, still mildly skeptical, but not like before. "We'll have to see, won't we?"

"But is that a yes?”

Troy finished off the rest of his coffee and set the cup down beside him. “Might as well be. Between Johnny's spandex and V's tails, I do get the feeling I'm being bland. Might be time to step it up a little. Or at least give it a shot.”

“Excellent." A gleeful smile stretched across Matt's face, and he couldn't help but hang on to it.  "I have some additional data to input, but meet me by my station in half an hour. If the boss and Johnny are out of the simulation by then we can work on some solo tests, but if not, it wouldn't hurt to give it a try with their help.”

Troy crossed his arms, and shook his head. “It wouldn't, would it?”


	6. Crooked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adjective prompt: Grant/Shaundi, crooked
> 
> One happy take pre-SR3, and one sad one pre-SRIV on the same prompt. I really need to write more happy things with these two.

It wasn’t the first time Grant had visited in the middle of a shoot, but the studio where Shaundi’s show was shot was in the middle of a rush. People didn’t stop moving, not even for a second, and it took him a while to pin Shaundi’s location down. 

He didn’t have anything critical to share, but she had been scarce over the last week. The change in schedule left him looking for her most mornings, and when the curiosity refused to stop picking at him, he opted to find a way to satisfy it himself.

Shaundi met Grant’s eyes across the room. Her arms were crossed, and her posture stiff, making him tense. But she waved him over, disregarding the fact that she was already in the middle of a conversation with her producer, and looked Grant over.  

“And?” she asked, ignoring the way the other man eyed Grant warily. “He fought with us once to get him on here, and if he’s going to pitch a fit now after the second chance we gave him, forget it.”

The man continued to watch the two of them closely, and when Shaundi reached for Grant’s tie to adjust it, he cleared his throat. “His impact on the ratings are too high. Letting him go mid-season could ruin everything.”

“So?”

Grant let her pull the knot out – already deemed fine by Pierce not even an hour ago – and clasped his hands behind him as she re-did it.

“He’s carrying too much clout. People love underdogs, and after accepting him back, we’re doing better than ever-”

“Clout?  Really?” Grant kept his eyes forward, while Shaundi aimed a look right over her shoulder. “You were there when we settled his contract. Do you remember me saying anything about a minimum number of episodes he was guaranteed?”

“…No.”

“And you know what the title of my show is, right?” There was a sharp tug, and Grant’s grip on his wrist tightened when her fingers brushed his skin. “Care to say it back to me?”

The producer gave them both a nervous glance. “I Want to Sleep with Shaundi.”

“Good, because if he gets cut, it’s because I don’t want to sleep with him.” She pulled the material tight as she looped it around Grant, but never too much. Her eyes met his, and Grant gave her a quick affirmation. “Straightforward, right? So I’d say he’s not entitled to a damn thing. Money or otherwise, no matter how hurt he’s supposedly feeling.”

“And?”

“And if he wants to argue any of that, fine. Let him. It won’t take him long to regret it.”

The man looked between the two as Shaundi finished her work, but stilled the moment he caught Grant’s stare.

“I’ll…let him know immediately.”

He walked off, his posture rigid, and the minute he was gone Shaundi’s forehead hit Grant’s chest.  “Tell me this isn’t going to end in a murder and serious jail time.”

“It’s not.”

She snorted, and raised her head. “Positive?”

Grant nodded, and returned the small smile she gave him with one of his own. “Positive.”

* * *

One hand smoothed down her skirt while the other checked her watch. It wasn’t out of place, but Shaundi couldn’t keep herself from doing it, or picking at the invisible piece of lint on her sleeve. Her heels echoed across the floor as she crossed it, making a beeline for Grant’s temporary office. They were on schedule, but she wasn’t sure what kind of waves this recent problem would make.

Sure, she could’ve called him instead, kept up with the work she was supposed to be dealing with on her end, but face-time was important. Especially with him. Words only got you so far, and the man was frustrating as hell to read on a good day. So when she told Pierce she was heading over herself, he got it. Gave her a nod, before diving back into the rest of the campaign nonsense with Ben.

Her hand went to her skirt one last time when she reached his door, and she swore under her breath when she caught the motion. Counting down from five, she steeled herself, and knocked before cracking open the door. “Boss?”

Grant paused, mid-stride, and turned towards her, every bit the man on the posters. His hands were crossed behind his back as he shifted to face her fully, and she noticed he’d placed his suit coat over the back of his chair, and rolled his sleeves up. His hat was also right back where it needed to be, and while it wasn’t much, that gesture alone brought him closer to what she knew and recognized. 

The wrinkles in his clothes weren’t going to be easy to remove, though. That was a fit with the personal assistants in the making, and it nearly made her grin. “Busy?”

He shook his head. “No. Never too much so.”

The wan smile she wore grew warm before she could stop it. “Even on a tight schedule like yours? You like staying busy. Admit it.”

He shrugged, but she didn’t miss the amused glint in his eye.  That’s when she noticed his tie. His genuinely crooked tie. She took one look at it, and crossed her arms.  

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No, just wanted to pass along an update before you got swarmed by the press again.” Shaundi watched Grant pace back and forth, his expression one step below his usual neutral, and couldn’t take her eyes off of him. “Six interviews in one day’s a little ridiculous, boss. It’s okay to take a break.”

He slowed his pace to glance at her. “Not with three left.”

“Two left,” she said, and he came to a complete stop. “One cancelled. Pierce was on the phone with them earlier, and I told him I’d stop by to give you the news.” Grant turned to face her completely, and the corners of his mouth inched down as she idly tapped her fingers on her upper arm. “The flight was delayed. It doesn’t look like they’ll be able to reach us today, but Pierce’s seeing if later in the week might work.”

“Not tomorrow?”

“No. Tomorrow’s going to be a day to regroup and rest.”

“Shaundi-“

“I’m not joking.” She gave him a look. “You’re taking a break, even if it’s just a small one.”

“With the election less than two months off?”

“It’s a day. We’re doing well in the polls, and Ben and Pierce have a foolproof system going. Stepping away from it just to get some air isn’t going to make it all fall apart.”

The stern look softened. “It can.”

“I know, but that’s what we’re here for, remember? To help you make sure it doesn’t.”

The shift in his gaze was faint, but she caught it. It was the kind that his sunglasses helped to hide all the time, and seeing it aimed at her now left her rooted to the spot. It was hard to blink, let alone breathe, but she tried. Made herself snap out of it, because if there was a time that she didn’t need to be mooning at him, this was it. 

So she forced herself to move, and walked right past him so she could hand him his coat. “We’ll go over the rest once you’ve run the other reporters off. Does that work?” She raised her eyes to his, and he waited a beat before nodding. “Great. Now you’d better run. Someone would choose today to show up early.”

He frowned again, but only for a second. What she caught after that was an expression she knew by heart, and he took his coat, grazing her fingers briefly before slipping it over his arm. 


	7. Bullseye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny/V - things you said when you were drunk
> 
> Early SR2, and nowhere near as serious as it could've been. Should probably give this one another whirl later.

"Bet I could do this blindfolded." V placed a hand over her eyes and drew back the dart. "Bet I could even hit the red."

"The red’s what? Fifty-fifty? Forty-sixty?" Johnny asked, sitting nearby. His feet were kicked up on the table, and he watched with amusement as she peeked through her fingers at him. "That’s with no blindfold either."

She canted her head towards him, and gave the dart a half-hearted toss, not even bothering to check where it fell. There was a dull thunk, and Shaundi gave a small boo as V snapped her fingers.

"Not even close, boss," Shaundi said, her head pillowed on her arms, and next to her Carlos just slowly shook his head in mock disappointment. Pierce had given up on watching entirely, and only sat there with his shoulders slumped.

The pile of cash in the center of the small table went Gat’s way, and he thumbed through the bills before slipping them into his wallet. “Missing a little something here. Boss?”

V made an aggravated noise, but made her way towards him, and pulled the crumpled twenty out of her pocket so she could slap it down on the table. “Cheat. As for the rest of you, I’m trying to make it work, here. You see how easy it is to get shit done when you’re riding a tequila high. Low. Whatever. Speaking of which…” She gestured towards the bottle by Carlos’ elbow. “Wanna hit me, hon?”

Carlos sat up straight and Johnny gave him a look, raising his eyebrows high. “Might want to pass on that.”

"Shut up," she shot, jabbing a finger at him. "My aim needs help. Your boss’s in dire straits here."

"Your aim don’t need that, and neither do you."

Making her way over to Gat, she placed her hands on the back of his seat, but made sure the pressure wasn’t enough to pitch him too far off-balance. “Wanna repeat that?”

He tilted his head back to stare up at her, and cracked a grin. “That was fucking awful, and you know it. Don’t know what was worse, though. Your grip or your follow-through.”

"Fuck you," she said, but she couldn’t stop smiling even if she wanted to. "It’s your turn, so we’ll see how well you take your own advice."

He lowered his glasses enough for her to catch the glint in his eye. “My turn?”

"Yeah." She leaned down towards him, and felt her arms strain as she tried to stay in place, letting her hover a hell of a lot closer than she had any business being. "Yours."

She tried not to pitch forward when Gat set his feet on the ground, and narrowly avoided smacking his head with hers. But he didn’t get up. Instead he angled his head towards Carlos. “Kid’s next. I know you’re eager to fork your money over, boss, but come on.”

"It’s well spent." She glanced at the others to gauge their opinions, only to see varying expressions of disagreement crossing Pierce’s, Shaundi’s, and Carlos’ faces. "Dammit, you guys. I need your backup here."

"We’ve given it to you for the last five turns," Pierce said, looking exasperated. "Can’t do much with nothing."

V gave a heavy sigh, but Carlos tapped her elbow. “Don’t worry, boss. I’ll cover you.”

"You’ll…cover me?"

"Yeah." He glanced up at her when she perched an arm on the back of his seat, and flicked his eyebrows up. "Maybe even win back extra too."

She blinked at him, but when his words sank in, she couldn’t keep from pivoting her head towards Johnny. “You hear that, Gat? I think you’re about to lose your lucky streak.”

Johnny leveled a stare at Carlos, before giving them both a wicked grin. “You’re on.”


	8. Sing-along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: I’ve got one word for you: sing-along!" OT3 / V trying to lighten up long car rides or something
> 
> A bit of a precursor to _Everything except excess_ , where V, Troy, and Johnny are in complete road trip mode.

"Aren’t you going to turn the radio back on?"

"No."

V leaned on the back of Johnny’s seat and pouted. “Why not?”

"Because the last time that happened we were stuck with the chipmunk power hour, and I’m not doing that again."

Troy hummed in agreement from the passenger seat, the map inches from his face as he squinted at it.

"Oh, bullshit. I worked with what I had! I’ve got nothing to do in this tiny enclosed space except bug you two and sing, and if I’m not singing, guess what I’m doing?"

"I’m not doing it," Johnny said, refusing to make eye contact with her in the rearview mirror.

“It’s not like it’ll throw us off any more than we already are,” she huffed.  “Lost is lost.”

“She’s got a point,” Troy said, lowering the map.

“Touch the radio then. I dare you.”

Troy narrowed his eyes, and V was ready to sit back and call it a day when he did. He flicked it on and the first thing to come out of the speakers was soulful crooning to the most melodramatic degree.

Johnny craned his head to the side but said nothing.

The volume went up.

“You know what would be great right about now?” V asked, letting go of the breath she’d been holding. “No guesses? No one?”

Both kept on going, and she really did believe that they’d drive a straight line into eternity if possible. Or at least a straight line into one of the nearby cornfields.

“No biters?”

The volume increased again, and she could see Johnny’s jaw begin to twitch.

She put a hand on each of their shoulders and slapped a grin across her face. “I’ve got one word for you: sing-along!”

Pushing ahead even in the face of the incredulous expressions being aimed at her, she started to belt out the first verse – she’d actually heard this song before, go figure – and only made it partway through before it was shut off.

She glared at the two hands on the radio and sighed. “Everybody’s a critic.”


	9. Things you didn't say at all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: things you didn't say at all - Troy/V. 
> 
> Takes place in the space between SR2 and 3.

Troy was on the phone when V slipped through the front door. His voice wasn’t overly loud, but she could pick out bit and pieces of what he was saying as she unlaced her boots and left them by the door. He sounded upbeat, something that piqued her curiosity as she approached the kitchen, and she poked her head around the corner to peer at him.

Pacing back and forth, he nursed his coffee as he made his way around the small space. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his work clothes yet, but was relaxed. Much more so than he usually was after a long day at the station.

She waved at him until he caught the movement and turned towards her. The wry look went apologetic as he mouthed,  _sorry, it’s my sister_ , but he gestured V closer without even missing a beat of the conversation. He didn’t even bother to cover the phone when he drew her in for a kiss. It was a quick one, but the soft way he greeted her made her duck away with his coffee cup before she was tempted to steal another.

“Yeah, yeah. Blame me for it,” he said after he raised the phone again. “You’re the one that got him the costume for Halloween. With the small badge, sunglasses, the whole nine yards. And that’s when you’re not…what?”

V took a careful sip as she reached for the door to the fridge, and she glanced up in time to meet his eyes. The corner of his mouth curved up, and he shrugged. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

He winked at her, and V felt her cheeks heat as she yanked the door open to fish around for anything of interest. When she was left staring there, unable to focus on anything but the words being traded behind her, she closed it with a huff, and nearly did a double-take at what was hanging in front of her.

A small magnet – a purple one at that – held up a picture drawn on white paper. A bright sun hung in the upper left corner of it, while in the center were two figures scribbled out in crayon and markers. It was as close to a PG-rated version of the statue in Troy’s office as it could get. With the police officer standing over the downed burglar, all valiant with a smile, and she couldn’t get over the small details present.

V gestured towards it, and looked back at Troy. He pursed his lips, but her amused expression kept him from growing too serious.  _Nephew_ , he mouthed. She’d heard about the kid before, and after taking another longer look at the picture, noticed the scrawled name on the badge, and the cop’s moustache. She couldn’t hide her grin after that.

“Course I will. Put him on the line. …Hey, it’s been a while, huh?” Troy said, his voice taking on a warm tone. “You doing well in school?”

It was tough for her to keep her eyes off of him like this. She tried to busy herself with other things in the kitchen, but one stray look at his relaxed posture – that fond smile – and she found herself fixed on him. On how he acted and reacted to the conversation he was having with his sister’s kid.

Troy caught her staring and raised an eyebrow. V pointed at the picture and gave him a thumbs up. “You know, I thought those crayons would come in handy. Really? Now that you mention it, I thought I was looking in a mirror for a second there.” He laughed softly. “That’s right, kid. It’s wonderful.”

She took another sip of his coffee, and leaned back against the counter. His smile grew, and V wondered if his nephew was wearing one just like it. If this made his day, and if this was going to lead to many more drawings for Troy to hang up on his fridge like small badges of honor.

Sighing, she watched him, and shook her head at the motions his hands made as he acted out parts of the story he was telling.

_Figures,_  she mused,  _he would be great with kids-_

The mug almost tumbled to the floor, making her swear loudly as coffee spilled onto the tile. Troy’s eyes shot to hers, concern written all over him, and she quickly waved him off as she all but rushed out of the kitchen to grab a towel.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid,_  she muttered to herself, but the thought was still there. As much as she wished she’d never had it.


	10. Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: V/Johnny, wrong
> 
> Hovers between SR2 and 3, and then jumps ahead.

“Hey,” V said, the word muffled due to the toast in her mouth.

Johnny shoved the dress he was looking at to the side, and kept on going, sifting through every last inch of her closet. “Hey.”

“Lost?” A coat hanger hit the floor, followed by a tank, and she cleared her throat. “Cause I don’t know how to break it to you, but red’s just not your color.”

Left only in his jeans, he gave her a short glance, before yanking a white shirt out. “We go through clothes fast, but I’ve got three of these. Two not counting the one that went up at the derby last week. Couldn’t find any of them.”

Eying it quizzically, she blew on her coffee until her brain caught up with the sight in front of her. “You don’t say?” she asked, her cheeks warming.

“Now, this shit’s not supposed to up and disappear like that.” Half of the buttons to the shirt in his hands were already undone, but the speed with which he worked through the rest was a thing of envy. He slipped it on, but didn’t bother to button it up. “Not normally, so I figured I’d start here.”

“Seriously? That was one time.”

“And?”

He turned towards her, something too close to a smile playing at his lips, and she scowled. Ripping another chunk out of her toast on the way to her bed, she mumbled, “One shirt doesn’t mean shit, Gat. This isn’t your second closet.”

Her plate hit the bed, and she folded her legs under her as he raised his eyebrow at her. “What?”

“It’s not-“ She swallowed the rest of her bite down, and gestured toward him. “Just because the people helping us out around here screwed up once and put them in here doesn’t mean this is going to become a habit. Even if they apparently fucked up a second time. Tell me, though,” she began, narrowing her eyes, “that’s all you got out of here, right? The shirt? You didn’t just waltz in here, hoping I’d hand some pants over too?”

He approached her, and reached for the second piece of toast on her plate. “Would I be that cruel, boss?”

It didn’t take long, but her flat look earned her a brilliant smirk. V let out a long sigh. “Goddammit.”

* * *

Yawning loudly, V shook her head. It was hard to focus, and after taking a look at the clock at her bedside, she stared up at the ceiling. 

Three hours.

Three hours of darkness and silence disguised as sleep, and she was left with how she felt before she’d fallen asleep to begin with. Worn, but wired, and restless.

She sat up, and pushed her bangs out of her face. Her bed had always been a comfort before, but now it felt too soft. Too comfortable, and lived-in. It wasn’t like the one she’d forced herself to use back in Steelport, but had settled into anyway.

Dragging herself out of bed, she stretched, angling her arms above her head, and wandered towards her closet. She opened it and reached inside for anything vaguely resembling a shirt so she could head downstairs to brew some coffee.

Her hand closed around a white sleeve. It stood out like a sore thumb next to the rest of her clothes, and her fingers ran over the material gently. 

Soft. Just like she remembered.

It slid out of her grip, and she dug her nails into her palm, clenching her fingers tight. Only when the sting hit did she let go.


End file.
